


Slugs

by AutisticWriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Curses, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot, Swearing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the fight between Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy had been more than just an argument?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slugs

Harry had never expected to go shopping for books and end up watching a fist fight between his best friend’s dad and his worst enemy’s dad, and, even though he knew he should be trying to do something, he couldn’t help but just stand and watch the fight. Mr Weasley landed a punch on Mr Malfoy’s jaw, and he swore filthy. Harry and Ron started laughing at the look on his face, and Mr Malfoy swore again, suddenly looking, if it was even possible, even angrier.

Harry’s eyes widened as Mr Malfoy reached into his robes and pointed his wand at Mr Weasley’s face. As amusing as it was to see them fighting, he didn’t want this to turn into a _duel_. Mr Weasley reached for his own wand, but his hands were shaking and he didn’t get there in time.

Only a second later, Mr Malfoy muttered a curse that Harry couldn’t hear, and a green spark shot out of the end of his wand. Before Mr Weasley had a chance to reach for his own wand, the spark hit him full in the chest, sending his stumbling backwards into Fred and George, almost knocking him over.

“Arthur!” Mrs Weasley shrieked as Ron yelled, “You bastard!”

“Dad?” Fred and George said uncertainly.

Harry saw how badly his legs were wobbling, and Fred and George must have too, because they each grabbed one of his elbows and eased their father to the floor. Mr Weasley toppled forwards onto his knees, one hand braced against the floor, the other clutching at his chest. His face was contorted, and he looked like he was in agony.

“Arthur?” Mrs Weasley crouched down beside him, her voice hesitant and cautious.

“Dad?” Ginny squeaked.

“What’s the matter?” Percy asked.

“Are you all right, Dad?” George said.

“Mr Weasley?” Hermione said.

“What have you done to him?” Ron gasped, glaring up at Mr Malfoy.

But Mr Malfoy simply smiled, shrugged and walked off, his son scurrying after him. Everyone was too worried about Mr Weasley to go after him. “He’ll be fine in about ten minutes. Have fun, blood traitors.” He said over his shoulder, and the door shut with a bang.

The whole shop fell into a hushed silence, at least until Mr Weasley began to groan, his breathes coming in shuddering gasps. Harry felt his chest tighten, wondering what Mr Malfoy had done to him, and knowing that Mr Malfoy wouldn’t be afraid to do something truly horrible to poor Mr Weasley. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the words.

“Dad?” Ginny said again, near tears this time.

Mr Weasley heaved, his cheeks bulging, and he clamped his hand over his mouth. His face was horribly pale against his red hair, and Harry realised that his face had lost colour within about five seconds of being cursed. He heaved again, desperately trying to keep his lips clamped shut, but, all of a sudden, a slug slid from between his lips and dripped onto the floor. Everybody gasped in horror.

“What the . . .?” Percy muttered.

“Dad?” Ginny whimpered.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said.

Mrs Weasley started to rub her husband’s back, muttering soothingly. Mr Weasley made a moaning noise, letting out a single, spluttering sob. Hermione had snatched Percy’s Advanced DADA from his arms, and was flicking through it. Fred and George were staring at the slug as it wriggled on the floor, looking faintly fascinated as well as disgusted. Ron had his arm around Ginny’s shoulders. Harry just stood there, wondering how everything could have gone so wrong so quickly.

Mr Weasley gasped for breath, and threw up another slug. He screwed his eyes up, a long string of thick saliva dangling from his lips.

“This is bloody horrib—” Mr Weasley started to say, his voice weak, but he cut himself off as another slug forced itself out of his mouth.

Grimacing, Harry looked over at Gilderoy Lockheart and his stand at the back of the bookshop, and was satisfied to see him avoiding them, encouraging his fans to reform their queue and acting almost as if they weren’t there. The manager, however, was staring at them with raised eyebrows and a tense expression.

The manager came over to them, frowning. “Would it be at all possible if you didn’t vomit slugs all over my floor?”

“That’s sympathy for you,” Ron muttered, scowling.

Still, they decided that it would be for the best if they left. Fred and George helped Mr Weasley to his feet, and Harry held the door open as they moved towards the exit under the watchful glare of the proprietor. Once they were outside, Mr Weasley’s legs gave way and he slumped back against the wall, vomiting another slug down the front of his robes. Harry saw Ginny grimace, and he didn’t blame her; he was beginning to feel quite sick himself.

“Can you get that bucket for me, Harry, dear?” Mrs Weasley said, gesturing towards a chipped wooden bucket lying on its side on the other side of the Alley.

Harry nodded, and ran to get it, dodging all of the witches and wizard who were milling past and somehow ignoring what was going on. He assumed that they were used to such weird things happening in Diagon Alley that seeing a man vomiting live slugs wasn’t a particularly strange occurrence. Picking up the bucket, Harry checked that it was empty (he never knew what was what in this place) and then ran back. Mrs Weasley took it from him and placed it under Mr Weasley’s chin.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, and he smiled weakly.

When Mr Weasley threw up another slug a few seconds later, it fell with a disgusting squelch into the bucket. Mr Weasley hung his head over the bucket, his face horribly clammy. He spat out a load of thick saliva, and Harry grimaced. It took him a few seconds to realise that he was actually spitting out slug slime, and he felt sicker than ever.

“Does anyone actually know what curse he actually used?” Fred asked, his voice echoing slightly as he peered into the bucket.

“Yeah, we didn’t hear it, did we, Fred?” George added.

Everyone shook their heads, except Hermione, who was still flicking through Percy’s Defence Against The Dark Arts book. Suddenly, a huge, smug smile crossed her face, and she looked up.

“ _Sluggus Erupto_ ,” Hermione said.

“Come again,” Ron said.

“It means ‘slug vomiting curse’.”

“That makes sense,” Ron muttered.

Hermione came over and stood next to Mrs Weasley, showing her the page in Percy’s book.

It’s a simple, but effective curse.” Hermione said. “According to this book, ‘the curse causes the victim to vomit slugs for approximately ten minutes’, and then just stops.”

Harry remembered what Mr Malfoy had said, and nodded. “So it’s harmless, then?”

“Yes, but not at all pleasant,” Hermione said. Mr Weasley groaned, as though backing up her point, and vomited another slug.

“Is there any way to stop it?” Percy asked.

“Well, there’s no counter curse given, so I don’t think so. It should stop after ten minutes, so I guess we’ll just have to wait.”

Mr Weasley groaned before choking up another slug. Ginny ran off to be sick, and Harry noted that Fred and George had gone rather pale. Mrs Weasley sat down beside Mr Weasley and started rubbing his back again, telling him in a sympathetic whisper that this was going to be over soon, and that he was all right.

“That Malfoy is such a complete git,” Ron said, and, although his mother frowned, she didn’t correct him.

Coming back and wiping her mouth, Ginny added, “Besides, he started it.”

“And they weren’t even duelling,” George said.

“So why would he start using curses?” Fred said.

“It wasn’t a fair fight,” Harry said, speaking up for the first time.

“You’re bloody right it wasn’t!” Ron cried.

“Ron! Mind your language!” Mrs Weasley snapped. A brief smile crossed her husband’s face, at least until he coughed up another slug, and the smile was replaced by a grimace.

Something else suddenly occurred to Harry, and he asked the question before he stopped himself, “Why did he call you blood traitors?”

All of the Weasleys looked at each other, not saying anything, and Harry met eyes with Hermione, who looked just as puzzled as he felt. Mr Weasley looked up. For a few seconds, it looked like he was going to speak, but then he vomited another slug instead.

“Because we’re purebloods, Harry,” Percy said, taking his book back and sliding it into his bag. For the first time, Ron and the twins weren’t mocking him behind his back as he spoke. “But, unlike most purebloods, we actually acknowledge that muggleborns and muggles are good people who don’t deserve to be treated like rubbish.”

“And, to some particularly bigoted wizards like Lucius Malfoy,” Mrs Weasley said, smiling sadly as Mr Weasley threw up yet another slug, “that means we have betrayed our blood status.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”

“You don’t have to tell me, dear,” she said, sighing. She leaned the side of her head against Mr Weasley’s, still rubbing his back, and reached for Ginny’s hand. “You don’t have to tell me.”


End file.
